befriended ovenbird I probably shouldn’t feed the crows. But there’s this very insistent voice inside me that urges me to do it. I want them to like me. I want them to see my face and think, “there goes a friend.” I don’t know why I want this. Who knows what hidden childhood wound manifests as a deep desire to befriend crows. But the truth is that I like being seen by a crow. I like knowing that they are watching and deciding what I might be to them. I want them to think I am good and kind and generous. It shouldn’t matter what a crow thinks of me, but I put stock in their judgement. This morning I was walking over the small bridge and a crow was perched at the very top of a light post. It looked at me. I don’t mean that it registered my presence. I mean that it was really looking. It felt like we were making intentional eye contact, the sort that allows certain information to travel between two souls, the sort that forges a temporary but intense connection. I said hello. The crow cocked its head. I took a small peanut butter treat from my dog’s bag and set it carefully on the railing. The crow hopped down right away and accepted the gift. I set another treat down and it ate that too. When I turned to leave it followed me for a little while, just to see if there might be another snack. I irrationally hope it will remember me. I don’t know why this matters. I suppose when you feel forgotten by the world, the gentle regard of a cheeky crow can mean more than it reasonably should. 260602 ... Thumos I wonder often if all the crows I befriended in the graveyard in 2019 and 2020 remember me. I hope they do. 260602 what's it to you? who go blather from